The Cold Cold Night
by ArkhamInquirer
Summary: In her pursuit for power, Samantha Regina comes to find just how much she can lose to her dark desires. Sequel to the fics 'Shulva' and 'Heir to Darkness, Conqueror of Brume'.
1. After the End

The snow underfoot created a pleasing crunching sound with each step, only amplified by the fact that the three travelers were wearing plate armor. Of course, thanks to the howling wind, the footsteps were drowned out by the frigid whistling and sinister cries that were carried with it.

The first of the group was Malefactor, the Wolf. He had not been born with that name, nor had he wanted it, but it was thrust upon him. In the times he originated from, those who were thought untrustworthy were branded with the name of a dog. He remembered his father, the Jackal, and he remembered a man he met, the Hyena. He would count neither as friends, and the fact that he himself had been branded, being a thief, tortured him to no end. A seemingly empty sheath for a katana on his hip, and a dark looking chime on the opposite side, was all he carried. He needed little else, these days.

The second was a High Inquisitor from the Lindelt Monastery, Sancti Puella. With the spirit of a lion, brilliant gold armor, and a contempt for all things dark , the woman ascended the ranks faster than any before her, unmatched in determination and pure skill. She was always able to find out what she wanted to know, and weed out any and all traitors. She had also shown an incredible thirst for knowledge, when it came to holy texts. Always a firm believer that the golden city of the gods was a real place, she had caused a stir. Her beliefs and pursuit of the truth was troublesome for the best efforts of those who would rather the past be buried. As such, she was sent on what seemed to be a fool's errand. A rogue student from Melfia, allegedly dangerous. They had no idea how right they were. In one hand, she had a length of rope, tied to Malefactor's waist, in order to keep him from getting away, and in her other hand, her long and blessed spear. It always found its mark, and the lightning pulsing through it only served to deliver divine justice to the foes of The Light.

Finally, trudging through the snow, was what would initially appear to be a fearsome black knight complete with massive horns and spikes lining his limbs, but would in reality be the cheerful and easy-going mercenary, Fortis Filius. Originally hailing from Forossa, the sellsword had wandered from place to place, always finding ways to get himself killed, but never even growing close to the state known as Hollowing. Hope was always present in Fortis' heart, and in joining Sancti in her divine mission, it had been joined by a fluttering sensation that would not leave him, and a weakness he had a particular fondness for. Hoisted up, and awkwardly over one shoulder, was his massive axe, a relic from a long lost age, prepared to go into battle once more.

"How are you sure she came this way?" Fortis shouted over the wind.

"We already looked at the other areas with the highest concentrations of Dark! Besides Drangleic Castle, this is our best best, and it was on the way!" Malefactor shouted back, his own dark pulling him forward.

"It matters little! If there are creatures of Dark here, they will fall before my spear!" Sancti yelled, quieting the chatter of the other two.

The snowy cliffs were difficult to see on, and thanks to the rolling blizzards, the group had almost been lost more than once. Thankfully, the storm let up, and now, their objective was in reach. A massive city, coated in ice, looking more like an age-old parish than a place of dark.

"Well, I guess we're here. Wherever 'here' is." Malefactor remarked, thankful that, for now, the storm had let up.

Fortis, at the rear of the group, simply kneeled before the gates, drawing looks from his companions. Before long, he stood back up, brushing the snow off of himself.

"Sorry. Forossa tradition. You're looking at holy ground, for us old timers. Eleum Loyce." He explained.

"Holy ground? What constitutes this place as 'holy'?" Sancti asked.

"Well, not holy in the strictest sense, but… There was a warrior, from Forossa, who set out to carve his own way in life. Not as a mercenary, like the rest of us, but as a King. At least, that's how the stories go. To think this is what became of it…" Fortis trailed off, shaking his head.

"We aren't here for history, are we? Let's find this girl, before my feet freeze off." Malefactor said, pulling on the rope around his waist a little to urge his new masters forward.

"I would not be so eager, if I were you, dog." Sancti spat, none the less continuing forward.

"Know something I don't?" Malefactor asked, the three ascending some mostly-destroyed stairs that led to the entrance of the city proper.

"Only rumors." Fortis chipped in.

"Rumors that state the Witch has talent in less than savory arts. Her instructors at the Magic Academy claim she had talent for all taught schools of magic, and judging from your acute senses, the depraved art known as Hexes are likely to be at her disposal." Sancti explained.

"So she's a witch. I know how to deal with her type. Not so dangerous, if they can't cast their spells." Malefactor remarked, placing his hand on his chime.

"That's not all." Fortis said.

"Rumors also say the Witch trained, in her journey to this old, forgotten land. Not only in the way of Hexes, but with a blade. An infamous assassin, Maldron, is said to have trained her. We attempted to track him for questioning, but he was… _adept_ at evading us." Sancti explained.

"So she's got some tricks up her sleeve. Good thing there're three of us, I guess." Malefactor said, stretching out a little, his skin numbing to the cold.

A lit bonfire. She had definitely been through here. The only problem was that the city up ahead, past the gates, looked massive. Far too large for three people to cover, regardless of their prowess with miracles.

"No time for resting. We have too much ground to cover." The Inquisitor Puella barked.

Malefactor sighed. At least the storms had let up. He wasn't sure how, or why, but the dark was… fluctuating. Something strange was happening, in the city, but he didn't quite know what it was.

The party of three moved through the partially opened gates, looking at the paths ahead. One way to the left, and one way to the right. One leading to a great cathedral, and one leading into the township.

"I'll go right. You two go left. Keep a close eye on the Wolf." Sancti said to Fortis, always the leader.

The Mercenary Filius didn't mind. He appreciated a woman with a strong backbone, and Puella's fiery spirit always caused a bit of a flutter in his stomach.

"You heard her, Mal, let's get a move on." Fortis said, taking the leash tied around Malefactor's waist.

The Wolf merely sighed, walking ahead, through a couple of small archways and into a massive stretch of undecorated, clearly disturbed cobblestone walkway.

"Someone fought here. Recently, by the looks of things." Malefactor observed, leaning down to observe some deep gashes in the stone.

A shift in the air. Was that growling? Why was the snow getting stirred up so ferociously?

"Draw that katana!" Fortis shouted, rushing forward only to clash with something unseen, but very, very powerful.

Digging his fearsome spiked boots into the ground, he was barely holding whatever it was at bay. He couldn't even make it out, but he could tell it wanted the two of them dead.

"I can't just use it whenever I want! I took a vow!" Malefactor shouted, retrieving his chime and trying to recount a hex that would be helpful against their unseen assailant.

"Forget the vow!" Fortis shouted back, finally put on his back, barely able to roll away before something created quite the impact on the stone.

With a mighty swing, the invisible creature was knocked back a bit, the flames released from Fortis's axe apparently repelling it.

"Fortis Filius! Stand aside!" A familiar voice called.

Sancti Puella stood at the entrance of the improvised arena, spear in hand. Fortis only needed to glance at her before stepping to the side.

"Foul beast! Your time has come! Face me!" The Inquisitor shouted, readying her spear.

There was a growl. A roar. Something befitting the animal that was assaulting the group. It charged, snow and bits of stone kicked up as it ran.

Sancti remained still, waiting for the right moment before hoisting up her ornate spear and throwing it like a javelin.

The weapon struck true, and the beast fell, sliding along the ground for a few feet, the spear embedded in its head, likely killing the creature instantly. Fortis and Malefactor could only look on, relieved to have such a capable companion.

"Can I not trust either of you alone? Do you require a woman to protect you, so often?" Sancti asked, pulling her spear from the unseen corpse, retrieving a rag to wipe the blood off of the silver and absurdly sharp blade.

"I usually get paid extra for fighting invisible things." Fortis joked.

Malefactor only frowned, placing his chime back on his belt. Why hadn't he acted? Was it fear? Apathy? He was essentially a captive. It wouldn't strike him as overly tragic, but all the same, an old commitment to a man in black stayed his hand.

As unhappy as he was, both were free of sin. He had an obligation to see them through their journey, whether he wanted to or not.

"I suppose we'll stay together, then." Sancti remarked, sighing, leading her companions ahead, towards the great cathedral.

Another obstacle. This one quite visible, and far less threatening.

A Hollow. Only one, and looking like he had come from the mainland of Drangleic, rather than originating in this kingdom. He wore the clothes of a thief, and sported unkempt stubble, coated with frost and snow. A dagger held limply, the only thing that was truly amiss was the iron crown atop his head, encrusted with jewels and decorations, looking ridiculous balanced on top of his hooded head.

"I think we might be able to handle this one without you, Sancti." Fortis joked, chuckling a little.

The shambling thing snarled, staggering at Malefactor. A swing of its dagger, effortlessly batted away on reflex, a second push knocking it on its back.

"We should leave him be. We don't-" Malefactor began.

Sancti Puella merely pushed past him, thrusting her spear into the defenseless hollow, putting it to rest.

"Forward, _Dog_. If I care for your opinion, I will _ask_ for it." The Inquisitor growled, withdrawing her spear.

Malefactor only watched as the crown on the hollow's head rolled down the sloped path behind them, another dead. Someone who was once a friend, or an ally. Someone like Him.

"I said forward. _Now_." Sancti repeated, shoving Malefactor.

The rest of the walk to the massive cathedral was spent in silence. No more enemies, and no more comments. Not even Fortis dared crack a joke. Malefactor might've said something, or speculated about the all-too-familiar surroundings he was in, but the Dark was too close now. Overwhelming. Whispering, in his brain, and clouding his senses to the point where he thought he might pass out.

Another bonfire, and more stairs. The interior of the cathedral was no less cold than the frozen city outside.

"I can feel it too." Sancti said, as if responding to something Malefactor said.

"I-I don't want to go." The Wolf said quietly.

"Forward. We will slay this Witch. You have nothing to be afraid of." Puella commanded.

A massive throne room, still coated in ice, the red carpet kicked up and scarred, from centuries of disuse and abuse. Movement, behind them. Fortis turned to see a man in bone armor and a steel helmet blocking the way.

The figure merely chuckled.

"Three meals. One of you smells particularly **delicious**." He remarked.

In response to the remark, the target of the three revealed herself, on a landing above the foyer of the throne room.

Samantha Regina, dressed in ornate silver armor, complete with heavy cape, brandishing only a thin silver straight sword, wearing a dainty and glowing crown atop her head.

"Visitors, Darkwraith?" She called.

"Three of them. I'd like to eat them." The Darkwraith responded.

"In time. Why are you here, trespassers?" Samantha shouted, addressing the three visitors.

"Samantha Regina, I presume." Sancti called up.

"I always figured she'd be taller." Fortis said quietly, leaning casually on his axe.

"We should go. _Now_. We can't beat her." Malefactor said, barely above a whisper.

Sancti sneered at the two, under her helmet. She had no such fears.

"I am Inquisitor Sancti Puella, of Lindelt. I have come to kill you." She stated simply.

Regina only laughed in response. The entire notion was absurd to her. Someone as powerful as her, challenged by three mortals, who had no idea what she had lost. What she had survived.

Hoisting herself over the railing, Samantha landed on the floor below with a thud, nodding to her Darkwraith and undoing her cape, allowing it to fall to the floor.

"Does that oath let you draw your Katana yet?" Fortis asked Malefactor.

"I think I'll have to, oath or not…" Malefactor responded.

"Now…" Samantha began, grinning madly, her eyes black orbs with tiny red dots for pupils.

"Become one, with the Dark."


	2. An Interlude

"Samantha Regina, you stand accused..."

While High Inquisitor Luella and the mercenary Fortis Filius handled their catch, Samantha Regina, Malefactor the Wolf stared at his own opponent, the Darkwraith. Normally, the 'untrustworthy dog' loathed combat. He avoided adherents of the Dark, and crusaders of the Light. He had befriended both types, over his many years, and come up empty handed. Those of the Dark generally became sick, and enfeebled, and those of the Light burned, in the name of sacrifice.

This time, however, it was different. Things felt old. Familiar. The Wolf looked like a young man, and for the first time in centuries, he felt like one again.

"You smell delicious. Old. I remember you. The second Wolf. Hopefully the last." The Darkwraith said, chuckling quietly.

"I can't say I remember you, wretched creature. How did I let you live?" Malefactor responded, frowning.

"You wouldn't. It was at the beginning of your long undead life. You were weak, with loss. You shuddered at the dark."

He lunged, his pilfered great sword nearly hitting the Wolf. The black armored undead was too quick, rolling to the side and assuming his standing, defensive pose again, still refusing to draw whatever eastern-styled sword rested in its sheath.

"You're a quick little thing. The fastest Hollow I've ever eaten. Congratulations." The Darkwraith said, sounding as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Images flashed and flickered, throughout the undead's mind. A flooded city. Men, covered in black iron, and bone. Four kings, seeking to recapture the glory of a dark creature, long dead. Malefactor was there, with another. A close friend of his. A brave warrior. Someone who went into the light, never to return. Never to be remembered.

"I'm no hollow. Can't you tell by looking at my handsome face, Darkwraith?" Malefactor asked, mockingly, gesturing to his soft, pale, and tired looking visage.

"Darkwraith. You're remembering. Nobody knows my name, these days. They can't remember why they're afraid." The Creature of Dark remarked, impressed.

"I'm remembering. I remember killing a lot of people wearing armor like that. I remember killing two of your Dark Lords. Tell me, does the Dark ever get tired of losing? Do you feel angry every time I have to strike down your new Master?" The Wolf spat, words positively dripping with venom.

The Darkwraith just chuckled, as he always did.

"You can fight and cling to the Light all you want, boy. The Dark only has to win once."

"Well it won't be this time. I've lived for quite awhile, and absorbed a lot of souls. You won't beat me."

The Darkwraith swung his blade, and this time, Malefactor did not dodge, but instead drew his Katana, for the first time in hundreds of years. The blade of Hiltless dug into the palms of his gauntlets, but he was accustomed to the sharpness.

His opponent was not.


End file.
